Greg House Versus Artemis Fowl
by Stolas
Summary: The genuine article. I finally got this thing off the ground and would love any reviews you might have. Involves Greg House, Artemis Fowl, Time and dimensional travel, Wilson, Holly, Mulch and others. PM or email me if you want a hand in this!
1. IT begins

He sat there, twirling his cane.

Doing what he always did, avoiding Cuddy.

The game was getting old... But he didn't care.

Waiting for something, anything to happen.

As long as it wasn't something mind numbingly boring.

It wasn't.

Artemis Fowl was going about his usual routine, at least his usual routine when Butler was absent from the household. The manservant was abroad in America, specifically in New Jersey visiting a contact. Without Butler to personally search the Manor for bombs every six hours, and with only a team of around two dozen guards to protect the Manor... Artemis was required by Butler to protect himself as best as he could, especially with the rest of the Fowl family once again away from the household. Artemis knew Butler was right and that it was indeed a rare thing to be overly cautious...

But even so as he gazed into the mirror he found himself wondering...

"Is the Kevlar jacket really necessary?"

It was, but not for him.

"When in doubt, check for Lupus!"

King House spoke as he sat at his throne, gesturing with his cane.

Or rather his royal stave.

"Perfect for beating the disobedience from the hired help." Spoke the king to his fearful servants, Taub and Foreman both of whom had been staring at his impressive stave. They both left immediately to run the commanded tests out of fear of a most sound thrashing.

House spoke to himself as they left, chuckling under his breath.

"You can skip the tests if you like, everybody

Meanwhile the mighty king was still bored, so he clapped his hands.

"Bring the entertainment! I want my jester and my dancers!"

Into the the room came three people.

Allison Cameron dressed as a cheerleader, Kutner with white face paint and a jester's hat, and Thirteen wearing a lab coat monogrammed with the number 13 on the back. Thirteen and Cameron abruptly began dancing, after a brief period they were wearing considerably less. Kutner danced the Charleston and elected to keep his clothes on.

Suddenly, amidst the dancing and music a man with boyish looks and freshly blow dried hair rushed in wearing a tube top and a short skirt. "House, you're going to need to see this."

Abruptly the dancing stopped, the music stopped, the dream simply ended.

All that was left was doctor Wilson standing in the doorway, and he was wearing a much less revealing outfit than he was mere moments ago. _(Much to the dismay of Wilson fan girls who collectively slapped their computer monitors in frustration.)_

House sat up in his chair, he had fallen asleep.

"What time is it?" Asked House as he reached for his cane, wishing for all the world to have back the narcotic induced dream of moments ago.

"It's around 4:00 in the evening with a chance of an overdose, eyes partly cloudy and senses failing rather often throughout the afternoon hours bringing impressive highs lasting through to tonight and possibly a horrible hangover tomorrow morning. This forecast brought to you by Wilson's House of depravity and pancakes."

House actually clapped his hands as Wilson took a bow over that extended metaphor.

"So it's 4:00 and you have something you want me to see. What is it?"

"Your next patient, mid forties male, huge Eurasian build. Bullet wound, point blank range, moderate caliber bullet."

House shook his head from side to side through the daze of the drugs. At least he hoped he was shaking his head from side to side. To Wilson it looked as though he was having a seizure.

"What part of a bullet wound is even remotely interesting?"  
"The point of entry, square at the heart. He isn't dead, instead he's fading in and out of consciousness and hallucinating. When the surgical staff tried to get at the bullet and started to open the chest cavity they couldn't cut through the tissue, they want to bring in a saw but until they know what exactly is keeping this man alive the saw might kill him. House, it's like this man's chest has been laced with Kevlar."

King House arose from his throne, royal stave in hand. And gallantly followed his doctoral comrade in arms to the ER.

All the while with an almost vampiric smile across his face.

Artemis was going about his day, still wearing the jacket as Butler instructed. Artemis was taking a short break from his usual business and was instead simply seated at the dinner table enjoying some caviar. He was actually starting to get used to the weight of the armor when the telephone rang.

Artemis started to ask for Butler to answer the phone when he remembered Butler was still in fact in New Jersey. So Artemis stood up and began to walk across the room when he immediately found himself with his face on the floor. The Jacket made him top-heavy, so when he attempted to walk normally while wearing it he simply fell over.

Unfortunately during this fall he managed to hurt his right ankle, rendering poor Artemis injured with a limp. Nevertheless he gallantly limped toward the phone, finally answering it on the 5th ring, Artemis for some reason felt like something was very wrong in the world. The phone call confirmed this suspicion.

"Umm, hello? Artemis?"

The voice sounded familiar, almost like Holly's but not quite the same.

"This is Artemis Fowl II, do I know you?"  
"No, we've never met. But I don't have time to chat right now. Artemis, Domovoi has been shot. I saw it, the shot was point blank at the heart. He isn't dead though, he is still breathing but he is oxygen deprived and fading in and out of consciousness.

He told me some things while he was hallucinating that the doctors here are insisting I ask you to explain, they think it might be relevant to discovering how he is still alive and what might have caused the unusual fibers in his chest cavity.

Artemis, who is Foaly?"

Artemis's heart skipped a beat.

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

Artemis said as he hung up the phone.

Artemis then quickly limped off to the place he kept the fairy communicator.

"We have a problem."

* * *

_And that ends the rewrite of scene 1!_

_I hope to have cured the scene of crappiness, by the way in scene three I introduce a new character named Artemis House, he does NOT exist in the same reality as Artemis Fowl and Greg House, his story is seperate at the immediate moment though he will play a critical role later in the story. that is all I can say about him._

_I own nothing except the original characters in this story and the concepts for the story._

_Please review and give your thoughts!_

_-Stolas_


	2. How IT happened

_The author wishes it to be known that he is well aware of the inconsistency between this scene and the previous scene, namely the part involving the mugger. The author has been incredibly busy with midterms and so has had little opportunity to write anything lately. By the time the author realized the inconsistency this scene had already been written. The good news is the inconsistency will only be present for several days as the author wishes to simply rewrite the first chapter as it is much too crappy in the author's opinion to remain in this story in its present form. The author also states that depending on his workload over the next several days, there **should** be more scenes posted within a week._

_By the way, here is a message from the author: HOLY CRAP you people are patient!_

_Now on to the story!_

Every so many years, Butler made a habit of visiting his old contacts.

This was business as usual, nothing even remotely dangerous.

Which was, for lack of a better way of saying it, unusual.

And this made Butler nervous.

Butler was never a trusting person, bodyguards rarely are.

But lately Butler was beginning to become a match for Foaly in terms of sheer paranoia.

Genuinely, Butler was beginning to feel relatively comfortable with the concept that everywhere he or Artemis might go, somebody nearby wanted them dead.

When no such people are apparently present, then

they are well-hidden and therefore exponentially more dangerous.

Butler was in New Jersey, he was also visiting an old friend, he was also sweating bullets.

"I am getting older, maybe I'm going senile too. That'd be perfect." Butler thought grimly to himself as he knocked on the door. A female voice asked for a password through a speaker beside the entrance.

Butler cleared his throat to enunciate clearly, he knew his voice would be verified several times by sensors before his contact disabled the locks. "Richard of York gave battle in vain. Rainbow." Butler stood waiting silently at the door. His contact was a dear friend of his, she was the sort that was exactly the sort of person you would want with you in a foxhole. A real soldier.

The voice in the speaker box came through again, "Come in! I don't know why you take so long to come visit!" Butler thought to himself as he reached for the handle, "When exactly was the last time I just came to visit?... Never." With a turn of the handle Butler was in, the reinforced door closing behind him.

Every inch of the walls were covered in various screens showing the apartment complex he stood in and what looked like the views of at least three dozen security cameras in and around another building he could not identify. After Butler watched the door close itself, he looked about the room for his contact.

She very shortly came walking in wearing a brilliant green sweater, the red on her face suggested she had been having a slight silent fume prior to his arrival. Her boss was a real jerk to her, just because she was a girl. Butler could empathize, or he could if he was in the employ of a somewhat abusive and perpetually red-faced windbag. At this thought Butler felt another emerge... That of the image of an acorn. Odd.

His contact spoke as she smiled at Butler "I'm making tea right now, would you like some?"

Butler was about to hold up his hand to politely refuse when he remembered he had no pressing matters to attend to at all. In fact he was in New Jersey specifically because he wanted to visit. So Butler instead nodded his head and searched for a seat large enough for himself. He then simply watched his friend as she went to work.

She was... Familiar for reasons he could not explain, and of course he knew she was as she was familiar as a dear friend of wars gone past.... But now she was familiar because of something else as well. Butler stared at her as she finished the tea. Something was odd, maybe not with her but with him. He felt like she was someone else, some other person he knew.

Her face was plump and cherubic, the same as when he had last seen her. She was barely a metre tall, again the same as before. She had short and spiky auburn hair... And it was at this point that Butler nearly slapped himself for not realizing right away what was going on. Haley Small was an almost perfect double for Holly Short.

He had Holly on the brain, the woman before him was so similar to Holly they could be twins if both had pointed ears. Haley however was, despite her very short appearance, a mercenary. Not just a mercenary but also a bodyguard of incredible merit, as her blue diamond tattoo would attest.

Somehow, she had seemed to never age, a detail she attributed to her tea which she jokingly always claimed to be made from the water in the fountain of youth. Haley looked very young as always, but Butler knew her to be at the very least sixty years old by now. He was beginning to wonder if maybe there was some truth in her tea story.

"So how have you been lately, Haley?" Haley's face puffed slightly at Butler's comment in mock annoyance. "You only come to visit every half-decade or so and you always open conversation the same way. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother opening the door for you. Next time, I'm just going to leave you to open it yourself!" Haley giggled as she finished that last statement.

Butler wondered if maybe the rumors were true, supposedly Haley had a thing for him. He decided he may as well provide a better opening. "Why all the security on the door? This isn't a war-zone, it's New Jersey. Is your employer having you do something... Off the books?" Haley chuckled as she spoke "Oddly enough the exact opposite is true. Believe it or not, bootlegging shoes is common for the local street gangs here, they're professional quality so it looks like an official and therefore legal operation to the cops.

The shoes are produced and sold to companies around the world as name brands to get the highest price. It really is an interesting ploy, the bootlegged shoes give an almost completely legitimate appearance to the operation. No cop is going to be on the lookout for bootlegged shoes being manufactured so nobody examines the merchandise. Even if they did the shoes have the logos and the very convincingly faked paperwork with them on the trucks.

The real crime comes in the fact that the shoes are not the only cargo, in the tongues of shoes and in other assorted parts they smuggle basically anything they can fit. Drugs, ammunition, vole curry... anything. My boss wants this to stop and so do I. This isn't like some con job or anything like that, this is getting people hurt around the world.

Since my boss couldn't find out a way to get evidence enough to shut the gang controlled factories down, he decided he would just drive them out of business by opening a legit factory in the area to flood the market. Once there is no longer a demand for the bootlegged shoes the smuggling will have to cease.

I'm here to make certain this factory of ours isn't attacked, sabotaged, blown up or otherwise disrupted in any way. Hence the security cameras and mass of monitors lining the walls of my apartment."

Butler grinned, Haley was an unusual merc, She had been under the same employer since his last meeting with her, this employer of hers was incredibly cautious, only being called 'The Boss' by his cohorts. The Boss was unusual, he ran a tight ship and never let ANYONE interfere when he chose a plan of action.

His ventures were occasionally criminal and at other times humanitarian, he hired Haley and Butler years ago along with a few other blue diamonds for a series of operations to disrupt a genocide in Africa. Once that was done he hired them again to rob a bank... A mob bank but a bank nonetheless. He was an odd fellow. Haley loved working for him, even if he was a sexist pig...

Butler could empathize, when Artemis asked a favor of someone it was usually a crap shoot as to if the act would be legal or not. His past ventures ranging from kidnapping and ransom to saving the world... Though lately he had been doing more of the sort of the latter rather than that of the former, excluding that time he and Butler were mind-wiped and the incident with the C-Cube.

Butler had by now nearly finished his cup of tea and was pouring more for himself when he noticed something in one of the monitors. The camera immediately outside the door had shown the same teenager walking past at least three times in the past ten minutes. Butler didn't like it, so he said so.

"Holly did you see the kid walking past just now?"

Haley was quick to correct and respond.

"My name is Haley, I'm shocked you forgot. And yes I did see him, his name is Ricky and he's harmless. I don't jump at shadows." Butler sipped his freshly poured cup of tea. "He's carrying a gun Haley. I can see the shape of it in the bulge of his right chest pocket. Being a blue diamond I am sure you see it as well." Haley set her glass down as she spoke. "You said yourself that this in not a war zone, it's New Jersey. I have no reason to be suspicious of a teenager that has just walked past my apartment a couple times."

"I said that before I knew you were currently on duty, if you were MY bodyguard and I were you, what would you do?" "That depends, do you mean me as in me or me as in the hypothetical me that is in the hypothetical position of you defending me?" "I mean the latter." Haley sighed and stared the monitor in question as Ricky again passed the camera.

"I suppose I should at the least be suspicious of anyone capable of attack rather than who would be likely." Butler smiled. That was the #1 rule of the protection game in general, be suspicious of everything and especially everyone that could harm the principle. Of course he felt bad about infusing another human being with the same sort of paranoia that was ruining his vacation, but that was the cost of keeping Haley safe. "So, apart from this factory business, what has the Boss been having you do? Powerful people never have a shortage of enemies and I'm guessing he is no exception to the rule."

"That's exactly right, I've been so busy lately I'm glad I finally have a chance to do a stationary op for a change. Last year I had this assignment in Peru..."

"Let me guess, it was a drug bust."

"Not every operation in Peru is a drug bust! You shouldn't assume things about an entire nation."

"What were you doing there then?"

"A drug bust, but even so you shouldn't just assume things about Peru."

"I've been to Peru, they have quite a drug problem, I remember last time I..."

"I'm telling the story, please let me finish and THEN we can hear why you hate Peru."

Butler wanted to respond, but couldn't seem to get the words out. So he decided to shut up and listen.

"Good, now as I was saying I was in Peru on a drug bust. I had to infiltrate a mansion to open it from the inside for a strike squad. All I had to do was get inside, which was simple enough, I simply disguised myself as one of the maids and walked right in." Haley eyed Butler cautiously, he had a smirk, a very small and nearly invisible smirk on his lips. Haley decided she would let it go, it was probably some stupid 'short' joke anyway. She was right. She decided to just pretend the smirk never happened and go on with the story. "As I was saying, I waited until nightfall to discreetly open the door for the squad to get the operation underway, then things started getting odd."

Butler leaned forward and spoke "What do you mean exactly by odd?"

"Everyone in the villa was gone. Normally it was home to dozens of staff and servants and relatives of the owner, but they were all gone. We searched all of the private rooms for somebody but nobody was to be found. We eventually found the owner's room and then we were all shocked."

"What did you see?"

"Well we saw the door, turning the knob electrified the door. We were actually shocked."  
Butler felt let down by that on so many levels.

"There is more right?"

"Of course. Luckily I was wearing an insulated infiltration suit under my maid uniform so I wasn't knocked unconscious by the trap. I..."

Butler's eyes grew wide for a moment, he was on the verge of breaking into laughter. Haley had to ask what struck him as funny, she regretted asking shortly afterward.

"What's funny about having your team knocked out by a trap?"

"You conducted a drug bust while wearing a maid outfit. Even as a blue diamond, did your men even try to keep a straight face?" Haley smiled a bit, the Domovoi Butler she remembered was always so serious, she was glad he had finally decided to lighten up... Even if only during his vacation.

"If it helps to give an image to you Domovoi, we were ALL dressed as maids. That was how the team had living quarters on the mansion grounds, though I was the only one that could get quarters in the main building. I just was the only one that had an infiltration suit on underneath the outfit that was insulated enough to keep me conscious. We had no fatalities in our squad in case you were wondering, though what happened next sent a chill down my spine I'll never forget."

Haley grinned as she watched Butler patiently awaiting the next part of the story. After several moments he realized she was waiting for him to beg for the next part, he refused to do so.  
"I know you're going to try to wait as long as you can to build anticipation before telling me what happened. So I'll tell you this: If you don't say what happened right away then I'm leaving right now."

Haley pouted for a moment and then continued her story. "When I finally got the door open, I found the owner of the mansion (The drug lord the Boss sent us to "Arrest") strewn about the room having been torn limb from limb. Seriously, the largest intact piece of the poor guy was no bigger than my fist. It was like the guy had been through a woodchipper."

Butler's eyes were wide, his mind was racing to find why and how the man was killed, and more importantly by whom. This was fun for him. Eventually though he gave up and had to ask Haley if she found who had committed the murder.

Haley lowered her head as we spoke.

"Once we found our target eviscerated the drug bust was officially aborted, as was secrecy. We openly sought and questioned everyone, without the drug lord we had no evidence to launch a legitimate strike against the drug trade. So the acquisition of any evidence we could still glean or any leads that might lead us to court admissible evidence became our priority. We never found any useful evidence regarding the drug trade or the murder and since we were there illegally ourselves we had to leave before the local cops arrived to investigate the murder. Nevertheless I still have a theory as to who committed the murder..."

Butler was willing to beg at this point for an answer.

"Come on then, who do you think killed the guy?"

Haley raised her head, a mischievous smile on her face.

"I think, the Butler did it."

Domovoi Butler wondered how she had arrived at that conclusion, then he got the pun and the question simply vanished from his lips.

"You've been saving that one haven't you?"

"Yep."

"There never was a drug lord was there?"  
"Nope."

"You told me that entire story, as set-up for that joke?"

"Yep."

Butler couldn't help but laugh, not so much at the joke but at how far the joke had gone.

"The factory thing still is seriously happening right? You are still here to oversee a shoe factory right?"

Haley shook her head.

"I wouldn't take the joke that far, yeah the factory story about the shoes and smuggling etc. is true. I wish it wouldn't be true but it is."

Butler set his empty tea cup down as he stood up.

"Haley, I've enjoyed my stay here thoroughly."  
"Domovoi! You don't have to leave yet. Stick around for a while longer."

"Haley, I'm on vacation. I have a hotel near here for the next three days. I'm jet lagged, it's late, and I need sleep. I'll be back tomorrow in the morning to speak to you again."

Haley hopped off her chair, walked over to Butler and hugged him as best as she could with her minimal stature. She really wished she had a pair of wings or something to hover up to eye level so she could give a proper hug to her departing friend. "When you do come back you had better tell me about what that Fowl boy of yours has been up to. I feel like he's the nephew I never get to meet."

Butler smiled, he had come to feel so much more at ease from this brief visit he felt his paranoia gradually fade away. He stood, walked across the room to the exit, opened the door to leave and turned about to say farewell to his friend. Once he had waved a fond, wordless farewell he turned back to the open hallway.

At which point he was greeted by the image of a young teenager standing paralyzed with fear before him. The teenager was Ricky, and he had a gun in his hand, small caliber but more than enough to be fatal. Even so, Ricky was petrified over the sight of the giant before him. Without thinking the boy fired a shot at Butler's chest. The bullet went in, the shot was nearly point blank, yet the giant still stood there as though nothing had happened. The boy was dumbfounded. Haley was dumbfounded as well. Butler was dumbfounded at how dumbfounded the boy and Haley were.

So they all three stood there being dumbfounded. The boy snapped out of his dumbfounded state when he saw the freakishly huge hand of Butler reaching for him. He began to flee, but before he could he felt a hand the approximate size of the state of Montana gripping his shoulder.

In all fairness, Butler was very calm and gentle given the fact that the lad had just moments ago tried to kill him. But even so, the lad DID try to kill him.

The first thing Butler did was knock the boy unconscious, this could have been accomplished from his current positions in any of three different ways from his current position. Butler chose a simple blow to the head, it was the fastest and most reliable (Not to mention unpleasant) method that occurred to Butler during the short window of opportunity presented to him.

With one quick stroke the boy was unconscious on the floor. Butler turned back to Haley with a grin and said "Maybe I will stick around a while longer... It's been AGES since the last time I saw a good interrogation. I hope you're not rusty."

Haley returned the smile "It's like riding a unicorn."

Suddenly Butler's face was contorted in what looked like confusion. "What did you say Holly?"

Haley started to look slightly worried, though to Butler's eyes and ears Haley Small was now Holly Short. "I said it's like riding a bicycle... And I'm not Holly, I'm HALEY remember?"

Butler stared at his friend who looked and sounded all the world like Captain Holly Short... It was then he realized what was going on. "Holly, I mean Haley... Call a doctor." Spoke the giant softly before abruptly falling to the ground beside the unconscious child.

Haley was left there, standing in her doorway alone.

On her left the boy who came to try to kill her, and on her right the heaving body of one of her oldest friends. Since she obviously couldn't just magically heal Butler, and his wound would normally be fatal to the average human, he needed immediate and quality medical care. So rather than simply call the local hospital, she did Butler one better... She called the Boss, and he called Princeton-Plainsboro.

This choice of Haley's, had far greater consequences than she could possibly have known. After all, when people get injured it is only natural to call the hospital to have them treated. This could NEVER bring about an encounter that could potentially bring about the destruction of world... Right?

For better or for worse... On this occasion, history was going to be made. And it wasn't the discovery-of-radium, first-man-on-the-moon happy kind of history. It was the Spanish-Inquisition, here-comes-the-Hindenburg bad kind of history. Bad for humans and fairies. Bad for everyone.

_I, as the author own nothing except the premises and original characters in this work._

_This is a fan fiction, and I intend to make the next scene specifically a House oriented scene, and probably the next one after that since these past two favor Fowl a bit too much._

_I hope the masses enjoy this as I really love doing this!_


	3. The story of Artemis House

_The unusual story of Artemis House. Told here from his perspective, thanks to the successful decryption of the first of his audio diaries._

Today I had an unusual encounter with one of my former professors.

My old Psychology Professor Cahill, we exchanged formalities for a bit and then the man proceeded spouting psycho babble and quoting the works of various practitioners of psychiatry throughout the age... Absolutely banal, except when he quoted the works of one of the few psychiatrists I could thoroughly appreciate...

Namely myself under one of my favorite pseudonyms: Hugh Lee Ray.

The irony...

Anyway, Cahill did mention one noteworthy item during his visit... He suggested that one of the best ways to become more self-aware and thusly more efficient when making important decisions...

Is to keep a diary....

For reasons I can't exactly understand, (I am suspecting either boredom or Lupus)

I feel compelled to try his suggestion and keep an audio diary.

Hence the existence of this recording...

I was born in a log cabin, four score and seven years ago...

Hmm... I suppose I should at least TRY to be serious about this or else it will be even more of a waste of my time.

Here goes: My name is Artemis House II. My parents are Artemis House I (According to the birth certificate) and Angeline House. Both are alive and well, though in truth unlike my mother I probably would not be among those to mourn a violent and painful death befalling my father and I am certain the feeling between me and him is mutual. Curiously both I and my father walk with a limp, mine was caused by one of his screw ups when I was fourteen, his caused by one of mine. I'll record those stories later, I'm not quite that bored yet. Give me an hour.

I'm a male and pale Caucasian American, 21, I have black hair and a very rugged & sexy beard. I don't enjoy long long walks at the beach for obvious reasons involving and rhyming with pain. Even before I nearly lost my leg I was never much of an athlete, though I have always enjoyed watching lacrosse. I am first and foremost a doctor specializing in infectious diseases. After that I am a dedicated criminal, think Batman in reverse. Owlman. After that I'm a multi-millionaire, did I mention I was loaded already? I am.

Or at least my family is, I once was before I left my life of luxury to dedicate my life to the solving of medical mysteries. Mostly though, I left because if you asked my father about his son he would swear he never had one. He'd say he had a good for nothing lowlife that would have sucked the family fortune dry as soon as dear Daddy dropped dead. As one might guess he was pretty attached to that leg before I caused it (albeit indirectly) to become decidedly unattached.

My dear father made his living in the military, with an elite mercenary force known as the "Blue Diamonds" they basically would go Rambo on anything if you paid them. Murder made easy. His secondary and more secret job was that of international crime lord. Legally and officially speaking, he's a millionaire general, off the books he's a billionaire modern day equivalent of Al Capone. One can see where I got my penchant for devious acts.

Since leaving my family household three years ago, one of the only aspects of my former life that I have kept has been my lifelong bodyguard, fellow doctor, partner in crime, friend and victim: Domovoi Wilson. He has blond curly hair and puppy dog eyes, his seemingly innocent appearance and overly caring demeanor is almost comical when compared to the fact that he is nearly seven feet tall and could conceivably be in the upper portion of the top five most deadly people on Earth. Prior to my leaving, Domovoi was both chief of security and the primary family doctor, by the way his specialty is oncology.

Oddly, he has been married around five times by now, I say five because one marriage lasted only 24 hours before the patient/bride died. I normally don't count that as a real marriage but he does so the number is technically 5, though I still question if it is possible to truly marry a terminal patient. He is in his mid forties, generally takes on the role of my "conscience" a role he has shown repeated distaste for. He despises the thought of hurting people, which is weird because he has such an incredible gift for breaking legs...

Nevertheless he lately has been getting softer and softer since he joined me in my medical practices here at Plainsboro Princeton hospital. If I didn't know any better I would say he was trying to force me to go straight and be a doctor full-time. Alas, as appealing as the straight and narrow sounds to me, I will never be content until my criminal empire rivals that of my father's... So unfortunate, I wish the situation were different, I really do... But my hands are tied.

So, in the mean time, by day Domovoi Wilson is a dedicated oncologist. By night, or basically any time we have free time he is my dedicated minion.

With that I'm done for now. I'll record more later when I'm bored, or immediately after I deal with my patient whom is apparently demanding to see me, which is ironic since he wants to see me to ask why he is suddenly blind. Go figure.

I would attempt an evil laugh to end this recording but I'm afraid I might hurt my throat.

Farewell.

_Author's comments: This actually is a part of the Artemis Fowl Versus Greg House story, and yes Artemis House is based on the idea of House and Artemis being combined. Into a single character, in fact every character in Artemis House's world will hopefully be amalgams of characters from the House series and Artemis Fowl books. In case you are wondering, Artemis House is going to have his own story once I finally finish my midterms once and for all. I also wish to say that I own nothing from House or Artemis Fowl except the concepts I created for my stories._

_Please review, if you have ANY ideas or requests please PM me or post on th forum for this thing, I am trying to also write a short Dexter Morgan Versus Artemis Fowl as well on request so YES I do actually listen to suggestions and requests. If you would, please tell me if you think I am leaning too far toward Artemis or too far toward House with Artemis House as well. Thank you for reading and I will TRY to update further soon._

_Props to any comic book nerds who can identify Owlman._

_Many more props to those who recognize the name of the superhero The Dark Claw and his relevance to this scene._

_Slightly fewer props to whomever can see the gag behind the name Hugh Lee Ray._

_Many, many props to whomever takes the time to review!!!_

_That is the fine art of the guilt trip by the way. _


	4. Imaginary Diagnosis

_Hello! This is the author, namely Stolas the Owl. I have had a great deal of fun writing this, though this scene was probably the hardest for me to do. Mostly because of how insanely busy I am now with my classes (I am even right now working on a rough draft on another page as I am writing this!)_

_Anyway, in this scene, which inevitably needs some touch up work House is still stoned and trying to think deal with Butler's Kevlar fibers. For future reference complaints keep me sharp and are welcome. I am very happy to see how patient everyone seems to be here, please enjoy this scene, let me know of any suggestions or requests, and I will shut up for now._

* * *

More cane twirling.

Sometimes House wished he had more cool looking habits to use when thinking.

Alas, cane twirling was a longtime habit of his, and while it was admittedly cool looking he did it far too often for the action to have its intended effect anymore, but nevertheless it was a habit by now.

Bored.

Or rather stuck.

Very stuck.

His level of being stuck was quite plausibly unparalleled in the natural world.

One might think Mr. House would be frustrated by this stuckiness.

Against all odds, one might be wrong.

But on this occasion one would be right.

The patient survived a bullet wound to the heart region from less than three yards.

That was interesting.

The patient somehow was not bleeding heavily either.

That too was interesting.

Instead, the bullet was preventing the heart from expanding properly.

They simply had to remove the bullet.

That was what rendered the puzzle predominately uninteresting.

He was stuck with one last puzzle, and the patient would probably live either way if he solved it or not.

So while he was not quite as bored as he was a few hours ago, he could feel himself slipping back into that dreaded state.

"What causes fibrous tissue that isn't fibrous tissue?"

House asked to himself.

House answered himself saying: "Stop thinking of it as fibrous tissue. Think of what it is, not what it could reasonably be. It isn't biological or else we would see cells in the tissue. Instead we see fibers that are thickly interwoven like a mesh. We see a silhouette of what looks like an 'I' or a capital 'T' in the middle, which suggests a tattoo."

House by this point had given up on the cane twirling and moved on to bouncing his ball.

Again House wanted to develop more interesting habits, he felt like he was becoming predictable...

As though, on the off chance other humans might be aware of his current activity, these observers would quite possibly feel that his actions were somewhat contrived.

This tormented him for reasons he could not quite comprehend.

He felt as though this invisible audience had great expectations of him.

They wanted him to solve the medical mystery within the next several seconds, to come to some ridiculous and somehow accurate conclusion, or at least... they would if they existed.

These people would probably expect some fantastic and fanciful explanation revealing some soul shattering revelation about the patient, or at least some very dark secret.

They would believe inherently that the patient would know beforehand of exactly what the fibers were made of, that behind their existence was some deep and dark secret.

House eventually returned to cane twirling.

He then suddenly came to a conclusion, a sudden thought worthy of his fictional audience.

This sudden thought brought House to his feet with a jerk, and the sudden end to his cane twirling brought his cane to suddenly fly to (And subsequently shatter) his window. This destruction, coupled by his sudden lack of cane brought House back to his seated position. When Cuddy asked later House would say the broken window was caused by a disgruntled patient. She'd buy that.

Since the cane was across the room currently, House was forced to remain seated as he studied the rest of his revelation. "The patient is obviously of a military background, currently under the employ of the Fowl empire of Ireland. He was here in New Jersey to visit an active mercenary. What does this tell us?" House closed his eyes and imagined a very cynical Jew seated across from him.

"What it tells us is he's had some sort of implantations or prosthesis. Those fibers weren't biological and were dyed to match the rest of the skin. It's an amazing trick and one we've never seen before but the patient is diagnosed now and the treatment is clear. The sensible thing would be to remove the bullet and send him home."

House smiled to himself and spoke to this imaginary Jew.

"Sensible is boring, not to mention fruitless. Logic is a far better approach, the patient is sick. We don't know why yet... therefore LOGIC dictates we avoid letting the patient go until we know what is wrong with him." The shadow of Foreman appeared behind House to counter the naughty Jew.

"Did you seriously expect him to say anything different? Since when has House been sensible? He knows the fibers are there, he's bored, and so he won't have any of you three stop until you give him a satisfactory answer. So start theorizing."

Imaginary Taub nodded in mock servitude to Imaginary Foreman as he left the room to run imaginary tests on the very real patient. Meanwhile also Real House now had one less imaginary underling to bounce ideas off of, so he frowned.

Really Frowning House was quite amused at the imaginary display before him, but his real frown was necessary to justify his imaginary scolding of Imaginary Foreman.

After said imaginary scolding, which will not be written here due to the excessive imaginary use of imaginary profanity... (Using such foul imaginary words as: 'Dinkel' and 'Pofferpoof' on multiple imaginary occasions.) Imaginary Foreman stormed out of the room to plot his imaginary revenge.

Meanwhile House had nobody left to consult, (And having nearly exhausted the supply of occasions the author might utilize the word 'imaginary' without seeming simply unreasonable) House decided to be alone with his reflections, uninterrupted by imaginary acquaintances.

At least not imaginary acquaintances that were not himself.

Imaginary House immediately pulled up a seat.

House the proceeded to answer and ask himself a series of questions.

"What are the symptoms?"

"The patient is hallucinating due to oxygen deprivation due to the fibers pressing the bullet against the heart."

"How do we treat this?"

"We remove the bullet."

"And what of the fibers and the difficulty breathing?"

"We will have to leave them alone."

"That sounds rather boring."

"However as a diagnostician, even if treatment is clear, I'll most likely be able to hold the patient's treatment until I have a diagnosis for his symptoms."

"That sounds better."

"I know, and since the patient is nowhere near critical I can take my time. I'm guessing I'll be able to milk this for several days off clinic duty, after which I will reveal my diagnosis of the origins of the fibers."

"That's great, but do we know the origins of the fibers?"

"Unfortunately no, we don't."

"I have a revolutionary idea, we ASK the patient."

"He'd lie."

"He probably will, but only if you ask. The merc that brought him in is obviously close to him, he might tell the truth about the fibers to her if you have her ask while he is hallucinating and delusional."

"I'm hallucinating and delusional right now, I don't feel especially honest."

"Yeah, but there's an exception to every rule."

"Then it isn't a rule."

"Just shut up and go ask the merc to ask the patient about the fibers, and while she's at it try to use her to analyze the hallucinations."

At this comment House simply stood up, grabbed his cane and limped out of the room, leaving his imaginary self all alone in the room. House didn't need to take that kind of talk from a figment of his own imagination.

As he left he passed and nodded to Imaginary Wilson, whom was still wearing a tube top.

The nod was returned as gradually Real House limped down the hall and started coming down off his drug induced insanity. He realized as he limped that the hallucinations would probably last only about an hour or so longer. (Much to the dismay of fans of Imaginary Foreman.)

* * *

In case anyone was wondering, another of the largest reasons why this took so long was because I could not decide what to do about respectively a kiss and a death on "House" in my story. I decided that the death (Being forced by circumstance) and the kiss (Brought on by what I assume to be large amounts of tequila on the part of the writers of the show) never happened. Somebody in the main cast of either series may die, but not on those terms and the kiss will NEVER HAPPEN IN MY STORY EVER!!!!  
Personally I'm a MulchXCuddy shipper anyway. (Seriously I am)

Also I own nothing except Artemis House and his world. By the way, to clear up any confusion Artemis House exists in a separate reality from Artemis Fowl and Gregory House, I did include him for a reason that I can't fully reveal yet and I just wanted to clarify for anyone who might have been confused by the sudden change. I thank you for reading all this extra ranting and hope you have a wonderful day/night/afternoon.

-Stolas


	5. Puppets on strings

Puppets on strings

Each and all

Dancing forever

To their inevitable end.

Rise

Fall

Rise

Fall

Rise, oh mighty men

That ye may soon fall.

Come

Go

Come to the realm of the living

That ye may go back into nonexistence.

I ask of thee

Mortal Man,

I ask thee how many breaths remain with thee?

Art thou half-spent?

Wholly spent?

Freshly born from the cradle

And ripening for the grave?

Puppets

Each and All

Rising

To take their fall.

For though we may live mightily

With each breath

We pay it all in due time

To greedy Death.

Therefore I say unto thee that

To cut the strings

To end the farce

To defeat the fates

And truly secure an eternal legacy

Thou must first exist eternally.

A goal that is allegedly unreachable.

Any thoughts on where to begin?

"An unusual poem, not among your better ones, but then again I'm just a Blue Diamond bodyguard/oncologist and not a poet."

"That's because it isn't a poem. It's a conclusion."

Artemis House spoke without glancing up from his laptop monitor.

Domovoi read through the not-poem again. He lowered his head in thought and then raised his head again in epiphany. "You're asking me..."

"Yes, of course I am."

"Where might the best place be to begin searching for immortality... I suppose the Fountain of Youth sounds like a good option."

Artemis smiled and turned his laptop toward Domovoi.

"I think this is a better one."

Domovoi examined the monitor for a moment and saw a giant X over part of digital map of Ho Chi Ming city. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me what we're going to find there?"

Artemis nodded. "You're right."

"And I'm guessing this is a bit better thought out than the time you set up a trap for Santa Claus on the grounds that he was an enormously wealthy fairy king?"

Artemis nodded again through somewhat gritted teeth.

"Yes, this time I'm not pursuing any sort of magical and therefore OBVIOUSLY fictional entity that is somehow exceedingly well documented despite being a hoax."

Domovoi heaved a sigh of relief, and then tensed up again.

"You're talking about pursuing eternal life, medical science has yet to achieve that, magic is obviously out... Can you give me a clue as to what exactly we are going to be dealing with?"

Artemis's face contorted into his trademark demonic grin as he spoke.

"Alchemy."

Domovoi lowered his head in defeat.

"I'll go clean my gun."

As Domovoi left the room he muttered to himself.

"I mean, it isn't like we have actual patients to be treating here in this hospital..."

* * *

I am VERY sorry for taking so long! This poem refused to be written and this scene was planned to center on that poem as well as several scenes to come. Now I should be able to update more quickly and I thank all of you for being so patient. Please be critical and make any suggestions you wish! Also, please review since I base most of my writing on input from those who read my work!


	6. Setting up shop

Mulch.

That is all one could say.

Mulch.

He opened the door, so stealthily.

He sidled down the corridors so easily, without letting his feet make a sound.

The halls of Princeton Plainsboro had never seen such a stealthy creature.

Even knowing that he was wrapped in cam foil and almost completely invisible,

Mulch still practiced magnificent infiltration technique.

Except for one problem.

With every step

He was humming the "Mission Impossible" theme song.

"Mulch!" Foaly spoke into his mike.

Mulch jumped for a moment at the sound in his earpiece.

"What?"

Mulch could hear the grinding of Foaly's teeth on the other end.

"This is your first time using cam foil right?"

"Well yeah. I mean you LEP guys are usually the only fairies with this sort of gear."

"Then you realize that you are completely invisible, right?"  
"Yes. Of course, it's cam foil. It CAMouflages the wearer. Look out Foaly, the criminal knows about cam foil! He's gonna steal your carrots!"

Foaly snorted and cut the com line for a silent fume. He did not like carrot jokes.

Mulch resumed his humming as he tiptoed down the crowded Princeton-Plainsboro hospital hallway and expertly picked the lock to slip into the records office. This time to the tune of the Bond theme. As he was making his big finish and locking the door behind him, Foaly resumed communication.

"Hello? Master of the cam foil?"

Mulch smiled at the unusually kind title he had received.

"What is that delightful tune you're humming?"

Mulch answered cautiously, knowing this was a set-up.

"Just a tune from some mud-movie."

"WHICH mud movie?"

"I dunno." A lie. Mulch had seen the flick a dozen times.

"Well, don't bother stepping back out but... Did ya see that mud man standing back there in the hallway? The one you passed? Did you notice how he was looking about randomly like he might have been crazy? You should ask him because he apparently heard at least half of your ENTIRE performance! Maybe HE can remember which movie it came from for you!."

Mulch winced. Though through the wince he stifled a giggle at how much Foaly excellent and unintentional impression of Julius Root.

With the door nicely locked behind him and no windows to speak of, Mulch sat down upon the floor, took off his cam foil and waited for Foaly to do his work deciding to reflect upon recent events.

Like how long the author has taken in finally posting this scene.

Mulch could only shake his head in disgust. It was ridiculous.

But hopefully worth it, since the story was FINALLY moving forward rather than just establishing backgrounds for the events to come. Even so, Mulch couldn't shake the feeling that this scene needed to be longer, more satisfying. So the little dwarf knelt down, and pleaded with the fourth wall to break just enough for his wish to be granted, and so it was.

A transmission came in through Mulch's earpiece.

"Mulch? This is Fowl. We're in position. We've smuggled Foaly in successfully and are setting up an HQ in one Dr Wilson's office. Tell me, are you comfortable where you're at?"

Mulch was startled by the sudden transmission. Mostly because Fowl didn't bother with using a codename.

"Arty? You're supposed to call me by my codename, 00Diggums!"

Mulch could hear Artemis sigh on his end of the connection.

"Code names like that only would make things needlessly complicated, we're using fairy tech that humans like myself CAN'T intercept even if they were aware of our presence here. Now, are you able to hold your position until he end of this operation?"

Mulch made a sulky face. He liked his suggestions for code names.

"I'm here aren't I mud boy? And yeah I can stay here and wait. I guess. But just so you know It's REALLY boring over here."

Artemis nodded to himself and glanced over at Holly, who was at that moment putting a very detailed mesmer on the original resident of their makeshift HQ in the hospital.

Foaly was setting up shop with his equipment, getting ready for the rather long list of fine-tuned mind wipes ahead. Artemis elected to run a recap of the situation that also shamelessly serves as exposition as to the how and why he was now in New Jersey.

First, Butler was already there somewhere in the hospital in need of healing and retrieval.

Second, he had apparently revealed fairy existence while delirious to one Haley Small.

Third, apparently the diagnostician treating Butler, one Dr House, is privy to this information, as is his staff, and Dr Wilson whom is also the unwilling primary source of reconnaissance on this mission thanks to the mesmer.

Lastly, since in order to minimize risk, mind wipes of the entire hospital staff seem prudent. And since this is a hospital, a blanket wipe could cause casualties among the patients being treated. Hence why they needed to bring Foaly along to perform the fine-tuned wipes.

Artemis nodded again to himself. Objective: Find Butler and discreetly retrieve him. Additionally remove all evidence of fairies and any knowledge of them from the minds of those that might have acquired this knowledge. And of course prevent meddling in the affairs of the hospital sufficiently to cause human casualties.

Artemis smiled, it was a simple set of objectives. But then again, so was the kidnapping. And the false-assassination/rescue of his father. And memories of the C-Cube leaped to mind. And the events immediately after acquiring the "Fairy Thief"... In short no part of his life that has brought him near his fairy friends has EVER been simple. The smile faded, but it came back moments later, after all there was always a first time for everything.

Holly finished her mesmer and sent the dazed Dr Wilson out into the hallway on his rounds. She glanced over at Foaly and then at Artemis, noticing that his expression was changing between a relieved smile and his usual wrinkled brow. She could only guess what was going on in his head. She could plainly see that Foaly was rather annoyed by the circumstance. Mulch didn't exactly sound that cheery either while they were all on their way.

"Gang's all here..." Holly thought to herself with a bitter smile, then she caught herself. Why was she so sad since entering the hospital? It was like, like the whole building was its own little world, one where every single person that enters might become hopelessly overcomplicated and whiny about how miserable they are. But at the same time, despite a sudden urge to lie with every breath, the whole experience seemed pretty cool.

She suddenly felt like acting overly cynical and dramatic, as though if she got a nosebleed it might somehow turn into spell-trophy that would be cured by some horribly simple yet obscure and unexpected means, with a sort of heavy handed non-moral designed to highlight how miserable and tormented the people that dwell within the hospital really are. Actually, she just wondered why none of them could just get together to visit sometime. And the author is completely shameless in trying to stretch this scene as far as it will go. And he just ran out of material for this scene, and the next scene should come up soon assuming nothing terrible happens and said author would like to apologize sincerely for how long it has been since the last update.

All of those that have read and reviewed so far have been immensely helpful, and I probably will rewrite this to be an expanded scene later and remove this big apology. Please review, it helps me to write more and I'm just now coming out of a dry and busy spell so I need all the help I can get. Thank you all of you who have read this far, I hope to please.


End file.
